


Sherlock's Mind

by SherlockedCAMPer



Series: Sherlock's Sick [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, HLV Cliffhanger Referenced, Post HLV, Sick Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:43:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3969667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockedCAMPer/pseuds/SherlockedCAMPer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock’s sick…What happens to him as his transport works on getting better?</p><p>Trying to follow my story line… “Well, good luck with that.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock's Mind

It was raining outside, one of the worst storms London had seen in years. Some of the Underground stations had to be closed to keep the water out while others had increased security because the criminal class decided to take advantage of the weather. Lestrade was up to his ears in case work with no end in sight. He was baffled by some of the cases and could not get a hold of Sherlock. He knew that Sherlock would probably have the cases wrapped up in a matter of minutes or hours. Where was he?

\--------

Sherlock lied on the floor in the bathroom. This was one of the many times he was thankful for the en suite door even if the bathroom had another door from the hallway. He had barely lifted the toilet seat in time before he started retching. He felt like everything he had eaten in the last year was coming up even though he knew that was impossible especially since he had gone through the same experience the 3 previous days. As he continued lying on the floor he recalled that yesterday his tailored suits seemed even more snug than usual. He had no idea what was going on. The nausea had subsided so he started to get up from the small space. He decided to get on his scale and weigh himself.  
Sherlock pulled the scale out from underneath the bathroom sink and stepped on. He was down 5 pounds yet his close fit as if he had gained 10 pounds. He looked at his face in the mirror. It seemed puffier than it had the week before. He slowly worked his way back to bed trying to figure this out. The retching had worn him out worse than the case that ended 5 days prior. 

As he tried to fall asleep, he felt the rumble of his stomach. Of course he realized that he was still hungry. Each day he had become ravenously hungry, ate a few bites then started retching. The only thing different about this time was that he had not eaten first. He was trying to ignore it and get some sleep for once. He crawled out of bed and worked his way to the kitchen. He put a slice of bread in the toaster and started the kettle for some tea. After a few minutes he was eating and heading back to bed feeling satiated. He made a mental note to check his symptoms online when he woke for the day.

\--------

It was day 3 of continuous rain. It had finally lightened up to a slight drizzle from the torrential downpours of the previous 36 hours. City workers were working hard to clear storm drains to help clear roadways of the standing water. Lestrade had been stuck in his office since the rain began. By the time his shift was done on the first day, many of the roads had minor flooding. He decided it would be better to kip on the break room sofa for a few hours than try to get home. The following morning told him that he had made a wise decision. Many on his shift could not get back to Scotland Yard let alone any part of Dacre, Broadway, or Victoria Streets because of the standing water. He tried calling Sherlock again and still was not getting any answer. Lestrade had no way of getting over to Baker St. to check on him. Lestrade tried John not knowing when John had last been in contact with Sherlock. He had been busy at surgery and raising a young family. “Hey John, Greg here. Have you been in contact with Sherlock at all? We have a few cases that would be up his alley but I have not been able to reach him.”

“Sorry Greg. Haven’t talked to him since the last case got done 6 days ago. I’ve been stuck at surgery since yesterday and hoping that I’ll be able to get home later today. Barely made it in as it was. I’ll call Mrs. Hudson and have her check on him. If I can get out of here, I might stop by there later. I’ll let you know what I hear.”

“Thanks John. Whatever you can do is a great help. Mary and the baby are doing fine I suppose considering this weather and all,” Greg asked.

“As well as can be expected. Poor Mary has had to single parent it for over 30 hours. Oh, I’ve got another patient. I’ll talk to you later, promise. Bye, Greg.” John hung up his phone and spent the next hour and a half with patients. He was surprised at how many were able to make it in with the weather and roads as bad as they were.

“Hey, Mrs. Hudson. Have you heard any peep from Sherlock since last Friday when we finished up the Moriarty case? Oh, nothing since Monday evening. Has he taken his morning tea the last 2 days? Greg has been trying to get a hold of him for the last day and a half. Can you check on him and call me back please? Thanks Mrs. Hudson. Yes Mary and the baby are fine. Will give them your love.” John was a little concerned. Sherlock was known to not eat while on a case, but he was between cases and had not had his morning tea. That was unusual for him. John hoped that Sherlock was Ok. A few minutes later his phone was ringing.

“John, it’s Mrs. Hudson. I think you need to get here as soon as possible to check on Sherlock. He was in bed and didn’t look well at all. He’s all sweaty. I tried getting his attention. He stirred a little then went back to sleep or something. I checked his forehead and he’s all warm. Worse than normal. Do you think you can get here with the way the weather is?” John was immediately alert. He quickly checked his schedule and got some supplies together so that he could check on Sherlock.

“I think I can get there. I’ll check with Greg to see which roads are open and if he can help me get there. I know the Tube line I would use to get there is still shut down from the rain. I have 1 more patient in about 5 minutes then I will be off. Thanks Mrs. Hudson. Oh and get a damp cool rag for his head please.” John hurriedly hung up the phone and then proceeded to dial Lestrade. “Hey Greg, John, Sherlock appears to be sick. Will be checking on him in a bit. I have 1 more patient. Can you assist me in getting to Baker St? Yes, I understand. Do what you can. Thanks. Got to go, patient is here. Thanks. Bye.”

John got off the phone and checked on his next patient. He was thankful this was a quick follow-up to make sure the prescription was working. He was done in less than five minutes. He quickly finished up his paper work and headed toward the front door. He was a short walk from the South Kensington Tube Station which happened to be closed from all of the rain. His phone beeped. “En route be there soon. Traffic slow, roads closed. – GL”

John waited inside as it was still raining. The rain appeared to be getting heavier again. It was another 10 minutes before Lestrade arrived. It had taken him 20 minutes to get to John’s surgery to pick him up. “I had dispatch giving me directions on how to get here with all of the road closures. It’s a nightmare on the streets. Is there anything we need to pick up before getting to Baker St.?”

“Nothing that I can think of. I have all of my equipment that I’ll need along with some paracetamol. He’s burning up according to Mrs. Hudson. I told her to put a cool rag on his head. We’ll take him to Bart’s if we have to. Wouldn’t torture anyone else with him. They at least know what to expect there plus Molly’s there to keep him in line if necessary.” John let out a sigh. The rain had indeed picked up. Lestrade has his wipers going at full speed and still had a hard time seeing. John helped him navigate with the directions they got from dispatch. It took them over 30 minutes to get to Baker St. John was thankful that most people were still staying indoors as if London was in a winter storm even though it was spring. 

\--------

It had been 2 weeks of Sherlock being sick every morning with ravenous hunger. He checked his weight again. It had not changed in the last 2 weeks only his suits were definitely too small. The shirts didn’t pull any worse along the chest but he noticed that they seemed to pull more around his waist and there was no way the trousers were closing. The research online did not give him anything conclusive for a male human. He knew that if he were a female it would likely mean pregnancy but that was physically impossible for him. He was a virgin by society’s standard and was married to his work or at least trying to be when his current condition wasn’t interfering. But most importantly he was a male so that was biologically impossible. He resigned himself to having to wear his tracksuit and hoodie from the day John found him in the drug den.

\--------

“How far have we gone?” John asked noting that they have been in the squad car about 11 minutes.

“A little over a kilometer I’d guess. I don’t drive the streets much with my position so I’m not as up on my distances as I used to be.” Lestrade was slightly frustrated with how traffic was moving. He knew no one could help it with the rain the way it was.

“Turn left here. The road is blocked by water a couple of blocks up. You’ll be making a right on Knightsbridge and reconnecting with A4. Looks like it should be a straight shot from there.” John was hoping the rain would let up enough so traffic could move a little faster. He realized that the speed would not change a whole lot with the various road closures. The clouds had been so thick over the last 3 days that it was hard to tell when the sun was up or had gone down for the day. The daylight hours were only slightly brighter than evening. Street lights had been on nearly continuous since shortly after the rain started.

\--------

Sherlock was moping around Baker Street fretting about his clothes not fitting and not understanding why. He tried curling up in his chair and realized he could no longer do it comfortably. His stomach was getting in the way. He was about to switch to the sofa when he felt nauseous once more. He hurried back to the bathroom and started retching again. This was new. So far whatever it was had only happened in the middle of the night. This, however, happened at 10 in the morning. 

“Ooh. Ooh.” It was Mrs. Hudson coming in with the morning tea. She heard Sherlock in his bathroom. “I’ve got your tea Sherlock. Are you OK?” Of course she had her motherly concern gushing as she asked the question. She went towards the bathroom and saw Sherlock leaning over the toilet looking flushed. “You poor dear. You look awful Sherlock. Here, let me get a wet flannel so you can clean your mouth.”

“Thanks Mrs. Hudson. Do you have biscuits with the tea? I’m starving.” The question surprised Mrs. Hudson with how Sherlock looked. He was the last to look like he would want to eat. She figured he would want to crawl back into bed. She regained her composure and handed Sherlock the damp flannel.

“Yes dear. Of course I do. They are your favorite chocolate ones. You probably already know this, but you look like the last person that would want something to eat. How are you feeling?” Her motherly concern poured out again.

“Strange. My suits are too tight and I’ve lost weight even though my face says otherwise. Furthermore, I’m ravenously hungry after I get done retching. The symptoms online would say I’m pregnant if I were female. Since I’m a male and not into that sort of thing, that is completely impossible. Also, you wouldn’t happen to have any tomato pasta sauce I can dip the biscuits into?” Sherlock asked that as if it was perfectly normal even though he knew the biscuits were the sweet kind not the salty ones that would work better for that combination.

\--------

John and Lestrade were back on the A4. They got as far as Park Lane when traffic just came to a halt. There was only so much Lestrade could do even with the lights flashing on the top of the car. The traffic moved just enough for Lestrade to make a left on Park and head up to Marylebone Road. He was surprised to find Park Lane deserted. He found out why soon enough. As he neared Cumberland Gate, he saw water on part of the road. Lestrade stopped the car and quickly checked the water depth before proceeding. He carefully pulled the car onto the right kerb and made a right onto the gate loop. He turned on his siren to help alert people that he was driving the wrong way on purpose. He got around to Oxford Street before correcting the side of the road he was on so he could make a left on Portman and head up to Park Road and back down to Baker Street. Traffic was finally beginning to move.

\--------

After the shock wore off from Sherlock’s request, Mrs. Hudson replied, “I think I have a jar of sauce in the cupboard and I suppose you’d like some fish fingers with that as well.” It was almost a question the way it came out.

“Now that you mention it, yes that would be lovely.” Sherlock climbed up off the floor and proceeded into the living room as if he was perfectly healthy. He sat in his chair normally and started drinking the tea. He only got about 2 sips down when he realized that he wasn’t liking it. He could tell that Mrs. Hudson had done the tea perfectly as usual. He was tired of his transport betraying his mind and throwing it for a tail spin like a plan out of control.

A few minutes later Mrs. Hudson was back upstairs with the tomato sauce and fish fingers. She watched for a moment as Sherlock grabbed a couple of biscuits, dunked 1 of the fish fingers in the tomato sauce and placed it in between the 2 biscuits before taking a bite. He moaned with pleasure as Mrs. Hudson turned to head back downstairs before she lost it. The sight of that concoction was making her ill. As Sherlock ate, he turned on the telly to find a nice little breaking news bulletin that was of particular interest to him.

\--------

“How much longer to Baker Street do you think Lestrade?”

“Well, we’re coming up on Marylebone so I suspect about 5 minutes to Park Road if there’s no water to contend with, then it’ll be another 2 to 3 minutes before 221B. Again that’s assuming clear roads and the traffic we’ve reached is able to keep moving so we can get by. Suppose you should let Mrs. Hudson know we’re almost there.” Lestrade replied turning to John.

\--------

“There have been numerous cases over the last week or so of men showing signs of increased hunger, morning sickness, and strange food cravings. “ The news report stated matter-of-factly. Sherlock sat there with his second fish and biscuit sandwich hanging from his hand. Those were his symptoms. He had missed the first little bit of the story and was now heading over to his laptop to get the whole story. He quickly brought up BBC’s news site and read the story from the beginning. As he read, he went on to mindlessly eat his little sandwich. He brought his laptop back to his chair so he could continue eating. He was still hungry as if he hadn’t eaten in 2 or more days. While Sherlock read the story, he made another fish and biscuit sandwich dunking it in the tomato sauce as if he was eating beef au jus. He mindlessly ate the rest of the fish and biscuits completely mesmerized by the article. When those were gone, he grabbed the rest of tomato sauce and drank it down as if it were tea.

Sherlock put his laptop down and grabbed the tea tray before heading down to Mrs. Hudson’s flat. “I know what my problem is Mrs. Hudson. I’ll be back in a bit. Have the tea, my taste buds are off.” He was off almost as quickly as he arrived. He ran back upstairs to grab his wallet, shoes, coat and scarf before heading back downstairs to catch a cab. He texted John in the process and was off to his surgery.

\--------

Lestrade made a right on Park Road and immediately came to a stop. The traffic was not moving. The rain was in another torrential downpour. It was beginning to look like 21:00 with traffic making it seem like 17:00. In reality it was barely past 14:00. Lestrade only had about 100m before he could turn onto Baker St. He was about to drive on the sidewalk when traffic finally started moving and the rain started letting up slightly. Lestrade made relatively quick work of the 100m considering the traffic was barely moving and the rain was hard to see through. He made a right on Baker Street and pulled up to 221B about 1 minute later.

\--------

Sherlock arrived at John’s surgery and was immediately ushered in. The receptionist was surprised to see Sherlock in a tracksuit as he was usually in his bespoke suit even when on a case. “Right this way Sherlock. John said you were coming in and to get you to an exam room immediately.” She knew better than to keep him in the waiting room as they would likely lose some patients because of him.

“Thank you. I assume John will be in within the next 5 minutes. Oh and stay away from the yogurt in the fridge. The power went out for 3 hours last night. Even though the yogurt smells fine, it’ll make you sick.” Sherlock’s condition had not affected his deduction skills too badly. They were slowed down for a bit the first few weeks. Now he was for the most part back into his old form. The receptionist left the exam room perplexed and thankful. She now had to decide what she was going to have for lunch as hers was spoiled apparently.

“Hello, Sherlock. How’s the patient doing?” John said as he entered the room. He didn’t bother knocking as Sherlock had already deduced that he was there.

“I’m sick of my track suit. I want to be back in my regular suits as those are usually more comfortable. I can’t see my feet, I miss tea and coffee and my experiments, my coat barely fits around my belly when I hold it there with my hands, and not being able to go on cases with Gareth is boring. Mrs. Hudson makes a poor attempt at trying to cheer me up although she did help me get my shoes on to get here today and Mycroft is annoying at best. And I won’t even get started on my parents. I’m assuming Mycroft told them as it is the only possible explanation. The best part is my latest craving. I take jam, crisps, chocolate biscuits, tomato pasta sauce, marmite, fish fingers, and clotted cream; mash them altogether; and eat it with a spoon while watching crap telly. Oh and that guy who couldn’t be the father because of the turn ups on his jeans. Well, he’s actually the long lost brother of the camera man from today’s episode. I want these remaining 5-and-a-half months to be over with. When does the swelling start usually? It was never my area so if I did know, I probably deleted it.” Sherlock replied tetchily with a slight catch towards the end as his emotions began to run wild.

“Sherlock, calm down some. You will be fine. It’s Greg not Gareth. Remind me not to come over for one of your meals although I’m glad you’re eating. And the swelling varies from now to the last few weeks. We need to schedule a scan for your next appointment. You’ll get to see it. Don’t suppose you have given any thoughts to names yet? Also, before I forget, your weight gain is within normal range. And try to incorporate some fruits and vegetables into that concoction of yours. The tomatoes are fine, but you do need some others as well. I’ll see you back here again in 4 weeks for that scan.” John tried to reassure Sherlock. It was not every day that your best friend was one of the lucky males that mysteriously becomes pregnant without the help of some sci-fi or medical experiment and he did nothing to cause it to himself as some might suspect. It felt like something out of Torchwood anyhow.

\--------

John and Lestrade jumped out of the car and hurried to the front door. John fumbled a moment with the key before getting the door unlocked. They hurried up the stairs to Sherlock’s room. “He’s still burning up John. I’ve been changing the flannels every few minutes. I’ve been using cool water and they are warm in under 5 minutes. He’s been mumbling something, but I can’t make it out for the life of me. I’ve tried waking him to no avail.”

“Thanks Mrs. Hudson.” Turning to Sherlock, “Hey, mate. Sherlock? It’s John. I’m going to take your temperature, see what’s wrong with you.”

\--------

Sherlock’s cravings increased. He was now wanting dill pickles and lutefisk covered in sweet and sour sauce in addition to everything else minus the crap telly. He could no longer handle the telly being on. It made him nauseous all over again especially between the hours of 16:00 and 10:00. And forget about trying to sleep. He could not get comfortable for anything. He tried both sides, couldn’t lay on his back for health reasons and laying on his stomach was out of the question with his size. He had 3 more months of this torture and he was beginning to swell. “Mrs. Hudson, did you ever go through this when you were in Florida? I don’t think my feet will fit in my shoes. I can’t even see my feet so I’m not sure of their actual size to make an accurate deduction. I can tell that there is swelling in my ankles when I walk. I feel puffy all over. And that movie about the horse that has my doppelganger in it made me cry for the 5 minutes I was able to watch it before “junior” decided I couldn’t handle it. I think I preferred morning sickness. I could at least eat afterward, watch the telly, and be fine. And don’t get me started on lack of comfort. The bed’s too lumpy and the sofa isn’t wide enough nor soft enough.” Sherlock was having one of his moods similar to when the criminal class wasn’t behaving to his liking a few years earlier. Continuing forlornly with a sad puppy dog look on his face, “Mrs. Hudson, would you mind rubbing my ankles? They’re hurting and I can’t reach them.”

\--------

John continued his examination. Sherlock’s temperature was coming in at about 39.5C. John checked Sherlock’s ears, nose and throat. Everything was coming back negative for bacteria in those areas. He crushed a couple of tablets of the paracetamol. With Greg’s help, he was able to get Sherlock coherent enough to get it down with some water. Sherlock was back asleep in no time and began mumbling unintelligibly again.

\--------

“You’ve got 4 weeks left. I need you to come in weekly from here on out. No excuses Sherlock. You’ve been doing good and the most recent scan shows everything to be as normal as can be expected for a pregnant male. Yeah, I know. You’ve been bored and feeling miserable with all of the swelling and not being able to do what you used to do before this happened. And amazingly enough neither you nor Mycroft can be blamed for what caused this. Now you will set up the appointments correct? Good. And Molly made sure there was a private room set up for you when the time comes. She texted me earlier knowing that you would be in this week. She’s looking forward to seeing you in the labs again. Been downright dreadful with you gone apparently.” John had his captain’s voice going for most of that. He knew that is what Sherlock needed so that he would do as he was told.

“Yes, John. Tell Molly thanks. I’m going home to see if Mrs. Hudson will massage my ankles for me. They’re hurting again. I wish I could wear my Belstaff and scarf. And before you ask, no I don’t have a name picked out yet. Oh and I’ve added an almost vindaloo dal to my concoction. Everything else was too bland and boring. I go through 2 liters of milk a day eating that stuff. Mmm, rocky road ice cream with Worcestershire and carrots sounds good. Oh and some double Gloucester cheese as well. Will have to get some from the Tesco on the way home. Cheerio.” Sherlock sounded a little chipper by the end as he went on his way. The idea of that new concoction intrigued his mind and made the previous 8 months a bit more bearable.

\--------

“Greg, do you think you can stick around for a couple of hours. The fever isn’t too high to warrant an immediate trip to the hospital. I want to see how the meds work first. If the fever starts to go down, then I’ll let you go if you want otherwise we head to hospital. I’ll message Mary to let her know that I will be here tonight regardless.” John was firm yet calm. There was not a whole lot he could do for Sherlock at this point. It seemed to be an ordinary, very annoying run of the mill virus. And with Sherlock being Sherlock, he wouldn’t have mentioned being sick until it was almost too late to do anything about it. He was almost worse than the stereotypical male in that regard. 

“Yeah, you bet I’ll stay. Not much else for me to do. If I made it home and had power, I’d be watching the telly drinking a pint. “You hungry at all? I can grab something from Speedy’s downstairs for us.”

\--------

Sherlock was in every week as promised. He had 1 week to go. He was waiting in the exam room when he had sudden abdominal pain. “John, come in here quick.” Sherlock was yelling loud enough for most of the surgery to hear him. John had just finished with a patient next door so was over in a jiff.

“What’s up Sherlock?” He asked before he had a chance to clear the door. Looking at Sherlock told him everything he needed to know. Sherlock was not going to be able to answer the question for a little bit if he even chose to answer it at all and Sherlock needed to get to St. Bart’s immediately. Calling over his shoulder, “Sarah, I need to take off with Sherlock. Call Molly at Bart’s. Tell her we’re on our way.” Turning his attention back to Sherlock, “Hey mate, if you can come with me. We’ll take my car to Bart’s. It survived Mary and the baby, so I think it’ll survive you as well. It will be about a 15 minute trip once we get to the car. Remember the breathing techniques we discussed.”

“Thanks John.” Sherlock got out just after the contraction ended. “I think I can finally move. Felt ‘normal’ then all of a sudden sharp pain rising. Lasted about 2 minutes total. Yelled as soon as the pain started….” Sherlock stopped in his tracks and clutched his belly again trying to remember the breathing techniques. He refused to go to normal baby classes and had John teach him instead. It had only been a few weeks since John had to go through those classes with Mary so he was still able to remember it well.

The contractions were hard and fast lasting about 2 minutes and coming every 1-3 minutes like clockwork. John got Sherlock into a wheelchair and out to his car. The trip to Bart’s took less time that John expected. Apparently Mycroft knew what was happening and timed all of the lights for John. The normal 13 minute trip took under 5. Molly met them at the door and helped transfer Sherlock to the waiting wheelchair. He was rolled up to his private room and prepped for surgery. Within the hour he had a healthy baby…

\--------

“Sherlock, mate. Time to check your temp again.” It was john back at Baker Street. 2 hours had passed since Sherlock was given the paracetamol. With Greg’s help, John was able to get Sherlock to stir more than before. “Hey friend, I’m going to stick the thermometer under your tongue.” After a minute the reading came back at 38.2C. “Your fever has gone down quite a bit.”

“You interrupted my dream John. I was pregnant.” Sherlock pouted tiredly. “Now I don’t know what I had.”

“What?! Pregnant? You nutter!” Greg replied shocked.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my 1st completed Sherlock FanFic. It's a 1-shot. I chose not to add a lot of tags because I like the element of surprise in a work. I am allergic to at least 2 items in every single concoction Sherlock came up with to eat. 
> 
> I have another fanfic in the works that needs a villain worth fighting. (The villain currently needs a run in with Mycroft or Moriarty to put him out of his misery as CAM won't touch him and Sherlock finds him dull at best.)
> 
> If you notice spelling or grammar errors (not including fragmented sentences), let me know. I tried to catch them. I generally use US English with UK terminology thrown in whenever possible. Comments are appreciated. Please be polite in the process.


End file.
